The Superior was kind and cordial, and hesitated not a moment when asked
by me to receive Vera for a while under exemption from the strict rules
of the convent.
She took Vera’s hand and patted it, laying her own presently upon her
golden crown of hair.
‘Too fair, too fair,’ she smiled, ‘to be shorn! Are you in some danger,
my pretty?’
‘In great danger, mother,’ said Vera. ‘The Regent would have the Tsar
Ivan choose me, and indeed I would sooner die!’
‘There is no need for that,’ exclaimed the Superior, laughing kindly,
‘for in case of extreme danger you should be received here under full
vows, and who would dare to touch you then? That would be better than
death, child; believe me, we are not so terribly miserable here, though
we have withdrawn from the outside world. If we do not hear its
laughter, neither do its moans distress our ears.’
‘Nevertheless, good mother,’ said Vera, ‘I would sooner remain in the
world. God may be served without these walls as well as within them.’
‘That is both true and untrue. But remain in the world by all means,
pretty: who would prevent thee? Moreover, we are most of us disappointed
women--we have had our sorrows, our bereavements, our sins, many of us,
and therefore we are here. You, I doubt not, have reason enough for
desiring neither to be Tsaritsa nor to enter sanctuary; maybe, also, I
can guess the reason.’
The good old woman glanced in my direction, smiling very kindly. ‘Oh,
well, well,’ she ended, ‘we have all been young once. God send thee
happiness, my child, of the best that the world can give, and remember,
in case the world prove illusive and disappointing, that there is pure
happiness to be had here also, even though it is not that which the
world generally esteems highest.’ Vera blushed, but spoke up frankly.
‘Mother, it is right that I should undeceive you, for you are mistaken.
I am heart-free, and this good youth is in love with another maiden, who
is, alas! in the _terem_, as I should be also but for his kindness and
yours!’
‘Dear Mother of the Lord!’ exclaimed the old woman, raising her hands in
pious horror. ‘In the _terem_, and he loves her? Can you not save her,
good Cossack, and bring her to us? Heaven forfend that so good a youth
should be so ill-treated by fate! Bring her to me, my son, bring her to
me, as you have saved two already from the danger of loveless marriage.’
‘Let her be, mother, let her be!’ I cried, laughing; ‘she went of her
free will, deserting me for the chance of selection as Tsaritsa. I am
under no illusion: she is not one to be wept for. I have torn her from
my heart, and be sure I am none the worse!’
I saw Vera flush and listen as I said this, and the sight pleased me
well. The old lady sighed.
‘Poor youth, you have done wisely, yet you must have suffered much! Be
comforted, your heart will find its home; rest assured, so brave a one
will not go long a-begging. Now farewell, my son, for I have many duties
and the days are too short for those who toil in God’s service. Stay,
this pretty one will desire to hear news of the bride-choosing, and of
the Regent’s attitude when her disappearance is discovered. Come here,
if you will, from time to time: you shall see her in the ante-room which
is set apart for such meetings. By our rules another must be present,
but do not fret lest her secret should be known to others, for I myself
shall be that third party. Now come, my pretty, and you--good
Cossack--depart.’
‘If they send, mother, to seek her, what then?’ I asked, my hand upon
the door.
‘They may send, but they will not find her!’ smiled the good old woman.
And Vera, as I left the room, gave me a glance which I liked well--a
look which I analysed in my memory many times afterwards, and most
carefully, and from which at each recollection I derived satisfaction
and delight.
‘That is a girl who can love like another, in spite of her piety, and
her gentleness, and her honesty and other rare qualities,’ thought I,
‘and will love well. Happy he who gains that heart, for I think he will
find it true gold. Moreover, that man is not Mazeppa!’ This last
consideration afforded me wondrous comfort and delight, and I dwelt upon
it so long and so lovingly that I almost forgot to consider what was my
own chance of winning where he had certainly lost.
When I did take this matter into consideration and weighed it together
with the glance which Vera had thrown in my direction as I left the
convent--well, I felt a glow of renewed delight.
‘I will out-fox you in this, old fox Mazeppa,’ I thought, ‘or it shall
not be for want of trying.’
And when I had come to this determination I returned to the city in
order to acquaint Mazeppa with the disconcerting fact of Vera’s
mysterious disappearance, and to enjoy his surprise and probable anger
and disgust.
I found Mazeppa at his lodging.
‘Well?’ he asked, and waited with evident anxiety for my response.
‘Not so very well,’ I laughed. ‘That is, she is, I suppose, safe, but it
has not happened as you desired.’
‘It has not?’ he said, looking annoyed. ‘Wherefore not?’
‘She has disappeared. She is not at her home, and her father knows
nothing of her whereabouts.’
‘By all the devils!’ exclaimed Mazeppa, growing suddenly furious. ‘How
dare she disappear when I had promised to succour her and see to her
safety?’
‘Ask her that when you find her!’ I said haughtily. ‘How should I reply
to such a riddle?’ Mazeppa stamped his foot with anger, but controlled
himself.
‘But where do you suppose she has hidden herself? has she taken a horse,
servants, and so forth? Tell me the details, man, as you know them! Do
you not see that I am anxious about the girl and must know all you have
to tell?’
‘I have told all I have to tell. She has disappeared. If she is wise she
has gone a long way and will tell to no one where to seek her. You
should hope this as much as I. Do we not both desire that she should
escape from this loathsome marriage with the Tsar? If so, what matters
it to us where she is, so long as she is safe? The further the better,
say I!’
‘That is true, of course,’ said Mazeppa, with a quick glance at me. ‘My
own object, no less than yours, was to get her out of the way and into
safety; but I am interested in the girl, and would prefer to keep in
touch with her.’
‘Yet how awkward that would be, if it should occur to the Regent to
suspect you and to put certain awkward questions to you. As it is, you
can reply, if asked, that you know nothing. At any rate, I suppose you
do not hold me to blame because the girl has disappeared?’
Mazeppa glanced keenly at me and flushed.
‘I had not thought of it until you suggested it!’ he said. ‘If the girl
were anything to you I should certainly suspect you; but I believe she
is not.’
‘Anything to me--she, this yellow-haired chit? Oh, she is too pious and
gentle for us Cossacks, Mazeppa; she is not the stuff we look for, we
Cossacks. I think she is not much to either of us, though I confess that
I had imagined at one time you looked somewhat fondly upon the girl.’
‘You are a fool, Chelminsky,’ said Mazeppa. ‘Do you suppose I should
take so much trouble to help the girl out of her troubles if I took no
interest in her? I tell you she is a finer girl than I have seen in the
Ukraine!’
‘What, finer than Olga Panief, whom you tried to steal from me?’
‘Lord, man, she stole herself from both of us. Olga is a fine wench, but
she is not fit to lace this other’s bodice!’
‘Oh, is it so?’ I laughed. ‘Then, indeed, we must see whether she cannot
be found, this timid Vera of ours! Lord, Mazeppa, you should have told
me of this before.’
‘Well, now you know it: show your friendship by finding the wench,’ he
said. ‘You have nothing to do in Moscow: I am busy as an official at
this choosing. Exert yourself, Chelminsky, I beseech you, and find her,
or trace of her.’
‘Would you marry her, Mazeppa?’ I cried, ‘or would it be a mere
spiriting away of the girl?’
‘Oh, it is too soon to speak of such things,’ he replied, smiling;
‘first find her, my friend; earn my gratitude, for, seriously, I am
badly thrown by her disappearance.’
‘Well, I shall see what I can do!’ I replied; but I left Mazeppa with my
tongue in my cheek; for this time, for once, I had out-foxed him. I had
the wench under my thumb, and he had revealed his game. A good day’s
work, by the saints!